How to Be a Man in Scary Times

It’s a scary time, he says.

He stands at the microphone, a preacher in front of his congregation, a cold, defiant smile on his face. He gesticulates as he speaks, waving to the masses and shaking his fist in the air to emphasize his point. His forehead glistens slightly, though it’s hard for me to tell if the sheen is a result of tiny beads of sweat from the spotlights or the oils from a low-quality spray tan. The crowd cheers in response, drinking in his charisma as if it has been forty years in the desert and he is the land of milk and honey.

I’d rather stay thirsty, I can’t help thinking.

I consider the comment again, this time picking up the last three words I’d missed earlier – it’s a scary time for young men – and I roll my eyes. My shoulders shrug as I let out a sort of guffaw-grunt-sigh and shake my head in exasperation. It seems an odd comment for a man in his position; he would hardly be considered “young” by most standards and he already has power, fame and followers. I struggle to think what he might be scared of except, perhaps, the thought of losing everything he has.

Which, I decide, might actually be his worst fear.

I glance away from the article and the accompanying video on the computer screen. My eyes lose focus for a moment as one of my contact lenses temporarily shifts off of my eye and I have to blink it back into place. My vision becomes clear again and I settle on the photo of my son holding his newborn baby sister I have up on my desk. He is about to turn four in the photo and his face is bursting with pride, happiness and, most of all, love. I look closer, searching his twinkling eyes, his crooked smile and his dimpled cheeks for any sign of fear.

I am unsuccessful.

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The man does not consider my son a part of the category of young men, of course. He thinks my son is too young and too innocent to understand the dynamics he is describing. But I know that my son has internalized more about the nature of the world in which he lives than the man would expect. He has already figured out that there are people who will tell him he is wrong for wanting to paint his nails or be content with a My Little Pony in his Happy Meal. They will tell him he isn’t allowed to be on the girls’ team during recess, even if he says he just wants the numbers to be more even.

They tell him he shouldn’t be wearing Nikes with pink on them because pink is a “girly color.”

The man says that women are devious and malicious and that they can’t be trusted. The man spreads the message that he has status because of his sex and his skin color and that the people who are different are threats to the people who look like him. The man admires strength, might and power and sees sensitivity and compassion as weaknesses. Men are men and women are objects, he says.1 Women playing the consent card are really just playing hard to get.

But my son knows better.

He knows how to treat other people with respect. He knows how to share his toys, his clothes and his feelings. He knows how to play fairly and how to follow rules. He knows the importance of telling the truth. He knows how to give to his friends when he has more and they have less. He knows how to protect his little sister and his mother and how he should never do anything that makes him uncomfortable.

He knows that when someone says no that means no. He knows that, if someone ask him to stop, he needs to stop.

The man doubles down, repeating his belief that young men do not know how to behave towards women for fear of #MeToo repercussions. I roll my eyes again and close the browser tab. The man may be right about the young men who were brought up like him, in rigid, patriarchal bubbles. A changing world can be a scary place for a person whose power and privilege are no longer entitlements based on sex, class or race. If we teach our children a different system, though, they’ll grow up respecting women, rather than looking to take advantage of them.

My son will be evidence of that.


1. If you haven’t seen this video yet, please watch it.

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